


The Path Looms Ever Nearer

by soprano_buddy15



Category: The Last Kingdom, The Last Kingdom (TV), The Warrior Chronicles | The Saxon Stories - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: Family Reunions, Mentions of Death, Some book canon, Spoilers For Season 3 and 4, Spoilers for the books a lil bit, Starts at Season 3 and Ends with Season 4, We are past show canon and into the unknown, What really happened to Uhtred's third child, time jumps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25740805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soprano_buddy15/pseuds/soprano_buddy15
Summary: This is the story of Osbert, Uhtred's third son.
Comments: 79
Kudos: 21





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Java_Blythe_Peralta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Java_Blythe_Peralta/gifts).



> Hello my friends!
> 
> This is my 40th fic. That's crazy. And so I wanted to do something a little bit more special for you all because I appreciate every comment said and kudos left. I honestly would not be at 40 fics if it weren't for all of your kind words and suggestions. This is the best fandom.
> 
> This will be a multi-chaptered fic that I hope to complete soon, but I figured I would release the prologue because i'm really excited to see where this all goes!
> 
> My immense appreciation and gratitude to the Enablers. You are so kind and uplifting and always there to chat! Thank you so much for welcoming me with such open arms. 
> 
> And my biggest thanks of course is to Java_Blythe_Peralta, without whom I probably would have stopped writing 35 fics ago. I write for her because I love how excited she is to read it and give me feedback. I love you so much, my dear. 
> 
> Constructive comments are always welcome! Just don't be rude, because nobody wants that.

Green grass and blue skies. Hild wondered how there could be such beauty in the world after such terrible darkness.

They had just come to the crest of the hill, overlooking the river valley below them. She was riding with a few of Alfred’s guards, after making her case to him that she needed to visit a convent for prayer. 

In reality, it was due to the small, squirming bundle wrapped around her. 

He squirmed, squeaking and mewling in the cold air. The babe was still quite small, only a few days old. But already he had lost so much. 

He looked like Gisela, with his dark hair and eyes that stared deeply into your soul. But Hild could see Uhtred’s stubbornness in his jaw and the set of his eyebrows. 

She wrapped her cloak around him tighter, muttering nothings into his ear. He settled slightly, yawning widely and snuggling into her warmth. 

“Abbess, we must keep moving if we wish to make it before nightfall.” The guard closest to her rode up beside her. 

She nodded, double checking the fastenings on the cloak before grabbing hold of her horses reins again. “Let’s go.”

The rest of the ride was quick, and sooner than Hild realized they were coming up to the convent. 

It was one of the smaller convents in Wessex, built of mainly timber instead of stone, but the nuns that lived there were sweet and humble. They had a few pigs and goats in a stable outside, and they looked happy and well fed. 

“Abbess Hild.” One of the older nuns came out to great them. “Welcome to Winborne. My name is Sister Wulfrun.”

Hild carefully dismounted, trying to keep from jerking around too much and waking the sleeping child. “I hope that you got my note, Sister Wulfrun?” She asked as she came up to the woman. Wulfrun was quite small, with bright eyes and a kind smile. 

“We did, just two days past.” Wulfrun gestured for Hild and the guards to enter the convent and ushered them into the main hall. Hild took a deep breath as the smell of fresh bread and warm stew met her nose. “We expected you would be hungry.”

“Blessings, Sister.” The men gave their thanks and tucked into the meal. They were ravenous, and ate as loudly as they were laughing. 

Wulfrun sat down at a little table just off to the side, and Hild pulled out the bench opposite of her. “I have a great request to ask of you,” she began, breaking the bread and dipping it into her stew.

“Your note said as much.” Wuflrun frowned curiously and leaned forward on the table. “What can I help you with?”

Hild gently undid the fastenings of her cloak and unwrapped the babe. He was still sound asleep, even through the raucous laughter of the guards. 

Wuflrun gasped and a smile lit up her face. She tenderly ran her hands over his soft downy hair and across his smooth cheek. He pursed his lips and scrunched his nose in irritation, and she withdrew her hands as he settled again. 

Wulfrun’s smile slid from her face as she began to understand what Hild was asking. “He has no family?” 

Hild felt her eyes begin to water as she remembered Gisela, and her heart broke for Uhtred again at his distress and grief. “He has no mother,” she began, voice trembling slighty. “And his father blames him for his mother’s death.”

Wulfrun crossed herself at the mention of Gisela’s death. “There was no one else to take him in?” 

Hild tenderly stroked the babe’s back. “His father is Uhtred of Bebbanburg.”

Wulfrun sucked in a breath, and Hild knew that she was hardly believing that. “The Dane-Slayer?” She whispered.

“He needs to be protected. Any child of Uhtred’s is in danger from his enemies.” 

Wulfrun glanced at the babe again. “He’s so innocent,” she said quietly. “And so much has been placed on him already.”

Hild breathed a sigh of relief. Wuflrun _understood._ “He needs someone to love him, and to nurture him.”

“And I’m assuming you want us to do that?”

“It is like you said,” Hild repeated. “There is no one else to take him in.”

Wulfrun stood, a look of determination on her face. “Then we will,” she declared. “And we will teach him.” 

Hild stood with her, and carefully unwrapped the babe from his sling and placed him in Wulfrun’s arms. She gingerly shifted him around, trying to get comfortable, and he complained until they both finally found a position that was suitable for both of them. 

Hild smiled at Wulfrun. The woman was completely smitten with the small boy, and if the rest of the tittering nuns in the corner were any clue, they would all be. Hild herself loved him immensely. She could only imagine the man he would grow up to be, with parents like Uhtred and Gisela. 

“Does he have a name?” Wulfrun asked, bouncing him gently in her arms. 

“His parents wanted to call him Osbert.” 

Wulfrun hummed in approval. “That’s a good, strong, Christian name.” 

Hild could only imagine Uhtred’s response to that reaction. Yes, it had been his name once, but it was a family name, much like Uhtred. “I think it will suit him,” she said, agreeing with Wulfrun. 

The guards laughed loudly, banging their cups on the table, and Osbert woke with a cry. Shooting a nasty glance at the guards, Wulfrun gently cooed at him and bounced him until he settled. “Hello, Osbert,” she said with a smile, and Osbert watched her with wide eyes.

Hild felt a blanket of relief settle over her. Osbert would be safe her, she knew it. He would have a home and the love of these nuns to nurture him and help him grow. 

He would have to decide for himself what his path would be. But that was a ways away yet. For now, he seemed content to be held closely in warm and tender arms.


	2. Five Summers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Osbert: Age Five.

Osbert knew that if he could just reach a _bit_ further he could snatch the bug up in his hand. 

He was kneeling in the garden patch, spying on the butterflies and dragonflies flitting around the fresh spring blooms. He lunged forward and snapped his fingers shut. eagerly, but slowly, of course, he opened each finger up to see if the bug was caught inside. He still couldn’t see it, so he opened one more and the bug flew out at him. 

He giggled as it bounced off of his forehead and flew away. 

“Osbert!”

He stopped giggling abruptly, hearing Sister Wulfrun’s voice calling his name. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be in the garden, but the bugs were so colourful and bright. He loved the way their wings flashed in the sunlight. 

“Osbert, are you in the garden again?”

He stayed completely still, but soon enough Sister Wulfrun’s head was peaking over the plants. “Osbert, how many times have we had to tell you,” she said, exasperated. She took hold of his arm pulled him out. “The garden is not for playing in.”

“But the bugs,” he began, and Sister Wulfrun began dusting the dirt off of him. “I wanted to catch them.”

“You should be studying,” she said, straightening up. “Learning the scriptures and committing them to memory.”

Osbert frowned. “But the bugs,” he said again. They were odd creatures, and he didn’t understand why the sisters did not like them as much as he did. 

Sister Wulfrun just rolled her eyes heavenward and heaved a great sigh. Osbert heard her mutter things like “Heaven help us,” and “Lord, give me patience with this five year old.”

“The bugs will be there later,” she said finally, gently pushing him towards the convent. “Sister Ailred will help you with your letters.”

Osbert begrudgingly went into the hall and sat down with Sister Ailred, who patiently helped him write his letters out and practice his reading. He sounded out the words, and Ailred explained to him what they meant. The scripture they were reading today was a story about a fig tree. Osbert didn’t know what a fig tree was, but for some reason one man was upset at the tree and cursed it.

That seemed silly. 

Letters were boring. He much preferred running around in the mud and dirt, but the Sisters here wanted him to learn them before playing with the bugs. 

Hearing a noise, he looked up and saw three men on horses gallop into the yard. He gasped in excitement, upsetting the ink pot and spilling it all over the precious parchment. He raced to the window, ignoring Sister Ailred’s cries of despair over the ruin pieces of parchment. 

“We bring news from King Edward,” the leader said, swinging off of his horse. Osbert liked the shininess of his mail. “The Danes are invading from the north and moving into Wessex.”

Wiflrun gasped and crossed herself quickly. “Are they coming here?” She asked breathlessly. Osbert could see a look of fear on her face, and he did not like it. 

Osbert frowned as the leader shook his head. Danes? Invading? These were big words that Osbert didn’t know. 

Sister Ailred came up next to him. “Osbert, we shouldn’t be listening.” She gently chided. But she stayed beside him anyways. 

“What’s a Dane?” He asked, and Sister Ailred started.

She looked down at him curiously. “Why would you be asking that?” She said, her voice full of suspicion.

Osbert pointed towards the leader, who was still talking to Sister Wulfrun. “He said they were invading.”

Sister Ailred squeaked in fear and crossed herself. “God save us,” she muttered. Osbert frowned even more as the leader mounted his horse and they all galloped off. 

“What did he all say?” Sister Aildred asked as Sister Wiflrun came in through the doors. A few of the other nuns were trickling in, worry on their faces. 

Sister Wulfrun took a deep breath and sat down heavily at the table. “The Danes are invading,” she said, repeating what Osbert had told Sister Ailred. “Their numbers grow by the day.”

“Are we in danger?” One of the novices asked. She had only joined them a few months ago, and Osbert could not remember her name. It was Sister something. He knew that much. 

“Right now, they are staying in the north.” Sister Wulfrun explained. “King Edward is sending Uhtred of Bebbanburg to deal with them.” For some reason, her eyes flicked to Osbert. “He and his men are riding out from Coccham now.”

Uhtred of Bebbanburg. Somewhere, Osbert had heard that name. It was familiar. 

“Uhtred of Bebbanburg? Didn’t he break the shield wall at Ethandun?” The novice continued speaking, awe on her face. 

“Yes, I suppose he did.” Wulfrun sounded unimpressed for some reason.

Osbert fiddled with the ties on his robes as they talked, trying to remember why it felt familiar. 

The novice continued. “So we are safe here?”

“For now. But be prepared to leave for Winchester at a moments notice.”

“And the boy?” Sister Ailred cut in.

Osbert looked up when they mentioned him. Wulfrun met his gaze. “He should probably be moved to a monastery closer to Winchester,” she admitted. “The closer he is to the Danes, the more danger we all are in.”

“I need to leave?” Osbert asked, despair ripping through him. He was being sent away again. He knew these women weren’t his family, even though they loved him and he loved them back.

Sister Wulfrun gestured for him to come close, and she wrapped her arms around him. “It’s for your safety, Osbert,” she explained to him. “You are very little yet and will be safer somewhere else.”

Osbert sighed deeply but nodded, a tear falling down his cheek. Sister Wulfrun gently wiped it away and continued to hug him closely. 

The letter was sent, and two weeks later Osbert found himself on a horse. It was his first time riding, and he wished desperately that the priest behind him wasn’t there. He wanted to do this himself. 

“Be safe, Osbert,” Sister Wulfrun said, squeezing his hand softly before letting go. “Be well.”

“Do not upset the ink pots,” Sister Ailred smiled beside Wulfrun. 

Osbert smiled at them as the priests thanked them and blessed them, before turning and heading out of the gate. As he turned, a dragonfly buzzed across the yard from the garden and landed on his finger gently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Hoping to get chapter 2 up soon - probably this weekend!


	3. Ten Summers

The church with the priests was quite different from the convent that he grew up in. The stone walls felt colder somehow, more withdrawn. 

Osbert tucked his hands inside of his long sleeves. The plain tunics did not do much for warmth, but any bit helped. 

He was kneeling with the priests in the chapel, chanting and praying. The cold of the stone did nothing to help the pain in his knees. When he had approached the Abbot about it, he was told very abruptly that he should remember the pain that Christ had taken upon himself. Then the Father beside him had mentioned growing pains and Osbert assumed that was the more likely the case. 

He missed the women at the convent. It had been five summers since he had been sent away as the Danes moved in from the North. They had continued to hear stories, but Osbert wondered what had happened to the convent. He had asked and begged to send a letter, but the men had said that it was not important and they would hear news if God willed it. 

The Abbot was preaching now, proclaiming how God’s kingdom was growing under King Edward’s reign. The Danes, led by Cnut, were leaving the shores of what would be England, and peace was spreading throughout the land. 

He spoke of Uhtred of Bebbanburg, and Osbert tried to ignore the stab of familiarity in his stomach. The man had succeeded in many battles, and even though they were quite excluded from the world, the stories of him and his men still ended up reaching the ears of even those most excluded. 

The stories excited him. He would often lay awake at night, dreaming of the adventures that Lord Uhtred must have. He sounded like he was a fearless man, followed by the most loyal of men who had fought in countless shield walls with him. Osbert desperately wished for a friendship like that, for a friend that would stand by him through anything. 

It made him wonder that if he had stayed with his parents if he would have a friend like that. He would have had neighbours, surely. He created many different families in his mind: sometimes his parents were of royal blood and he was prince of a faraway land, and to protect him had to send him off to the convent. Other nights his parents were humble farmers, keeping the sheep fed and letting him be in charge of the goats. 

He was thinking about that now, letting his mind wander aimlessly. Belatedly, he realizes that the Abbot has finished his sermon, and the priests around him had crossed themselves. He hastily followed suite, but a quick glance up at the Abbot proved that he had seen him forget. 

They were getting up from their position on the ground, and Osbert grimaced as the pain in his knees flared. He was reaching his eleventh summer, and supposed that meant that he was to continue growing again. At this rate, he imagined he would be quite tall indeed.

He followed them out into the courtyard. It was nearing the midday meal, and Osbert could smell the fresh broth floating out to them from the kitchens. 

The priests ahead of him had stopped and were murmuring to each other. Trying to look over their shoulders, Osbert stood on his toes and watched as a rider furiously rode towards the church. The horse was foaming at the mouth, and Osbert could even see the sweat pouring down its flanks. 

It was a priest from a different convent. He was wearing the same robes as they all were, but Osbert wondered what could cause such worry and haste. 

He pulled up on the reins just as he reached them, both the horse and rider panting hard. He slid off, and one of the priests from Osbert’s church took hold of the horses bridle while another brought of cup of water to him. 

“Blessings, brother.” The priest thanked him as he took a long drink of water. 

“Who are you?” The Abbot asked.

“Father Egbin,” he introduced himself. “I come from a church just outside of Winchester.”

Winchester! Osbert was immediately curious. He had never been to the capital, but imagined that it was grand and full of stories and adventure. He imagined this priest must have seen many things in his life there, like battles and Danes. 

“Do you bring news?” The Abbot asked. He was a strict man and was not one to mince words. He preached patience, but Osbert often thought that he could listen to his own sermons once in a while. 

Father Egbin fished through his satchel and pulled out a letter. “We were infiltrated,” he explained, passing it to the Abbot. “Three men came in and stole a young deacon from our church.”

The Abbot frowned, but opened the letter and scanned it. His eyes narrowed, and he glanced at Osbert quickly. “Father Godwulf,” the Abbot called. “Make sure Father Egbin is fed and given a bed to rest in.”

Father Godwulf ushered Father Egbin towards the kitchens while the priest holding his horse took it to the stables. 

“Osbert!” The Abbot called, and he started. The Abbot was staring right at him. “Come with me.”

Feeling the stares of all of the priests on him, he followed the Abbot back towards the chapel. The door shut with a clang behind them, and the silence echoed loudly in his ears. 

“Osbert, I will be plain with you.” The Abbot turned to face him and Osbert withered under his steely gaze. “There is a chance you are in danger of being taken as well.”

“Why would I be taken?” Osbert asked, astonished. “I am… no one. I have no family.”

“That is what you have been told.” The Abbot began pacing back and forth in front of him. “But now I see no other option but to tell you the truth.” He met Osbert’s gaze. “Your father is alive, and is the one who stole the deacon from the church.”

 _Oh._ Shame filled Osbert. This was not what he wanted. Not at all. His father was supposed to be a _good_. At least, he was in his mind. “Why would my father do this?” He asked hesitantly. He was almost afraid to know.

“Because your father is Uhtred of Bebbanburg.”

Osbert blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“Yes, boy.” The Abbot snarled, obviously displeased. “Your father is a pagan, and a traitor to the King’s ordained by God.”

Osbert couldn’t even describe the emotion that was running through him. This couldn’t be real. “But why would he take a deacon?”

The Abbot scoffed. “You are not his only child in the church.” 

MInd reeling, Osbert could only stand in shock. Not only was his father Uhtred the Dane-Slayer, but he had siblings as well. _Siblings_.  
The Abbot continued speaking. “You will be careful when you are here, Osbert. Never are you to go anywhere alone.”

Suddenly, Osbert’s heart leaped. A thought had shot through his head and he could not get it out. What if he was coming for him next? Uhtred had taken one of his children back, surely he would be on his way here now?

Osbert nodded in agreement to the Abbot, then excused himself. Once he was in the hallway, he burst into a run and sped into his room. He grabbed one of his knapsacks and tucked in some books and a few apples from the table beside his bed. He pulled the drawstring closed and tucked it under the bed, eagerly awaiting for the arrival of his father. 

*****

And he kept waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hoping to get the next part up soon.


	4. Ten Summers and Three Months

And he kept waiting. 

He had been waiting for many weeks now, and Osbert had to continually replace the apples in his knapsack as they grew mushy and moldy. The priests in the church were constantly asking where the apples were going, and so Osbert would tuck them even further into his sleeves. 

Finally, after three months, Osbert tipped the contents of the knapsack out onto his bed. The books were carefully placed back to where they belonged, and the apples were thrown to the pigs.

With a heavy heart, he threw himself onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, his arms crossed over his chest. He supposed that he had wished too hard, that he had believed his father wanted him. But the sad reality was that he was left at the convent at Winborne as a young babe. His parents hadn’t even wanted him then. 

He sighed, thinking about them. He knew his father was Uhtred of Bebbanburg, but no one had told him about his mother. It made him curious. Who was this woman who had birthed him? Had she loved Uhtred? Had they been married? Was the deacon who was stolen from the church near Winchester is full-blooded brother or his half-brother? 

These were all questions that were running through his head as he continued to lay on the bed. The sinking feeling in his stomach grew and grew until he sat up and hugged his middle. He had to stop thinking about this. It was too much. 

The bell rung for mass, and so he took a deep breath to try and settle his stomach before getting up and joining the priests. 

The sermon was surprisingly short today, and his knees only just started hurting before they were able to sit back up on the benches. Osbert was confused as to why they all continued sitting there, but then the Abbot spoke up. 

“We have received another letter,” he began. “The Danes led by Cnut did not actually leave our shores. They instead have attacked Mercia and have taken Aegelesburg. 

A few gasps echoed throughout the chapel and the murmuring started. The panic was settling over the room and the Abbot held up his hand for silence. He had to hold it up for quite some time. 

“The Lady Aethelflaed has raised the Mercian Fyrds, and is forcing King Edward’s hand.” The Abbot explained. “They are marching to meet the Danes as we speak.”

More murmuring filled the room. There had not been a battle like this since Ethandun. Osbert recalled reading about them in the scrolls that were housed in the church. The Abbot often spoke of the late King Alfred’s Chronicle that was in Winchester. It was clearly the Abbot’s dream to read it, but he had never been granted access to it. 

“Where are they marching?” One of the priests asked. 

“Teotenhall.” The Abbot answered.

Teotenhall! Osbert felt a flurry of excitement go through him. That was near here. Maybe they would see the armies marching past.

“That’s very close to us,” the priest said, echoing Osbert’s thoughts. “What if the Danes come here?”

Ah. Yes, that too was also a problem. 

“We shall pray that they will go around us,” the Abbot said. “He will not let them destroy us if He understands our adoration.”

The priests nodded in agreement, and some of them started praying then and there. But Osbert was among the few who decided that prayers could happen after they had eaten. 

“Do you think we are in danger?” Osbert asked Father Aldwin. Aldwin was one of the younger priests here, and Osbert often preferred spending time with him. He wasn’t very tall, but his kind eyes and quick smile made him one of Osbert’s favourite people. 

Father Aldwin shrugged and slurped his soup. “I am worried,” he admitted quietly. “The unrest is growing greatly and I fear for our brothers and sisters in Christ.”

Osbert picked up a spoonful of the soup and poured it back into his bowl, ignoring Aldwin’s displeased expression. “Do you think Lord Uhtred will be there?” 

Aldwin gently set down his spoon. “I can’t imagine he wouldn’t be,” he said honestly. Understanding was clear in his eyes. “He fights for the Lady Aethelflaed. Everyone knows she has his oath.”

Osbert looked down. Somehow, know that his father would put himself at risk for the Lady of Mercia didn’t help him. 

*****

“The battle is over, and Cnut is dead.”

All of the priests looked up as the Abbot entered the kitchens holding a letter. “The Welsh came and the Danes have retreated.”

Osbert opened his mouth to speak, but then he closed it abruptly. Father Aldwin, who was sitting beside him, spoke up. “Who all else was there?”

The Abbot frowned, but answered the question anyway. “The Lady Aethelflaed, and King Edward brought armies. King Hywel of Wealas brough an army, and Lord Aethelred and his men.” The Abbot crossed himself. “Lord Aethelred was gravely wounded. We must pray for his healing.” All of the priests crossed themselves. 

“Anybody else?” Aldwin prompted.

The Abbot clenched his jaw. “Uhtred of Bebbanburg led the battle and killed the Dane Cnut. He was there with his men.”

Osbert supposed that was going to be the case. His father was always there to fight battles for the Saxon’s, even though he was pagan. 

With a pang, Osbert realized that he too, must be partly pagan. His father was one… but what about his mother? 

Now Osbert was truly confused. He knew nothing about himself. He had waited and waited for Uhtred to come and find him, but instead his pagan father had gone to fight battles for Saxon lords. Uhtred was legendary, respected and feared, and he was 

Osbert stood up abruptly, startling Aldwin. “I have to go,” he muttered, and tears were coming to his eyes. He stumbled out into the courtyard. The sun was starting to set and he knew that it was soon time to retire for the night. But the tears just kept on falling. 

He couldn’t believe that he had actually believed that his father would be coming for him. He was _left_ here in the first place. It was obvious nobody wanted him. His father had more important things to do than take him from the church and teach him. Lord Uhtred was literally fighting for England. Besides, who knew if Uhtred even knew about Osbert? He might have been born from an alehouse whore who couldn’t bring herself to care for him. 

He jumped when Father Aldwin’s arm gently went around his shoulders. “You’ll be okay, Osbert,” he said softly. “You have a home here.”

“I just want to _know_ ,” he sniffled. “I know nothing.”

“You know your father is Uhtred of Bebbanburg,” Aldwin said. “But you are able to make your own path.” He squeezed his shoulders. “You are still young and not bound by expectations.”

Osbert sniffed again, but nodded. Perhaps Father Aldwin was right. The only way he was bound to Uhtred was through a connection, nothing else. He had not sought after him. It was name only. 

“Now come,” Aldwin stood and gently pushed Osbert to his feet. “it is late, and prayers start early.”

He followed Father Aldwin back to the rooms. Tonight, there would be no waiting. Only sleep and the promise of tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I don't know when I'll be getting the next part up, as I don't have much time to write over the week. Hopefully soon!


	5. Ten Summers and Six Months

Osbert believed that the Battle of Teotenhall was one of those events that would overshadow any others in his timeline. There was only so many great things that could happen in any number of years, and it seemed like Teotenhall was the greatest. 

He desperately wanted to hear all of the stories of the battle, but whenever travellers would come, they would only speak of Uhtred and his bravery. 

It was hard for Osbert. He was trying to accept that Uhtred was not going to come for him, and that there was a chance that he didn’t even know he existed. 

So much had changed since the Battle - Lord Aethelred had died, and according to one traveller, Uhtred had become Lord of Mercia before relinquishing the throne to the Lady Aethelflaed. 

Osbert couldn’t wrap his head around it. His father had been Lord of an entire country for mere minutes. 

He was sitting in the garden again, having finished doing his lessons for the day. Father Aldwin had said that his Latin was coming along quite well and he was proud of his hard work. 

The dragonflies were flitting around. Summer was fading and the cold of fall was starting to settle in. But Osbert enjoyed sitting outside as much as he could, as he knew that the wicked winters would come in and it was a much wiser choice to sit by the fire. 

He held out a hand, and a dragonfly landed on his finger. It was a nice blue, the transparent wings making beautiful colours in the sunlight. 

It flew off after a moment, but Osbert remembered all of the times he spent in the gardens at the convent. The last time he had played in the dirt was then, as the priests here did not give him much time to play. It was all learning, and reading, and praying. 

The sound of hooves caused him to look up, and right in front of him was another traveller. This one looked quite worn and ragged, his clothes dirtier than usual and his expression one of exhaustion. 

“Do you have the sickness?” Osbert asked immediately. There had been quite a horrible plague that had swept through the land, and it had taken many lives. While it only took sinners, Osbert really didn't want to let him in if he was sick, since there was a good chance the Abbot would die, and Osbert really did not want to be responsible for that.

The traveller shook his head. “I do not,” he said wearily. “I just seek shelter for the night.”

“Are you coming from Winchester?” The man flinched slightly, but nodded. “We haven’t had anybody from Winchester for near a month.” Osbert continued.

The man dismounted, and Osbert led him to the stables were he could prepare his horse for the night. “That’s because Winchester was under siege,” he explained quietly.

Osbert stopped in his tracks. “The Danes were attacking Winchester?”

The man continued past him. “The Danes had taken Winchester.” He thought for a moment, then laughed dryly. “King Edward was sieging his own city.”

Osbert hurried after him. “But I thought Cnut had been killed? He was the leader of the Danes, and was killed by Uhtred of Bebbanburg!” He followed the man into the stable. 

Finding a stall that was already bedded down with fresh straw, the man coerced his horse into it and removed the saddle. “Aye, Lord Uhtred killed Cnut,” he said, brushing down his horse with the straw. “But there was a new Dane. Sigtryggr of Irland.”

Oh. They had heard of Sigtryggr. And of his youth. Osbert felt a bolt of fear go through him that such a young man could lead a Dane army and take a city like Winchester. 

“How did you get out?”

The man was still brushing down the horse, and Osbert placed some hay in his hand and fed it to the horse. “I was in the city walls for a month before Lord Uhtred exchanged himself for King Edward’s sons. Edward breached the walls not long after and Sigtryggr agreed to leave Winchester and take back Eoferwic.” He snorted. “Lady Aethelflaed had just taken it back from the Danes and immediately gave it up to that pagan.”

Osbert stroked the horse’s nose softy. “Lord Uhtred scarified himself for King Edward’s children?” He asked quietly. 

“And to see his daughter. She was a hostage of Sigtryggr’s. Heard she rode off with him afterwards.” 

Oh. He stood there quietly as the man continued rubbing down the horse. He didn’t want to thing about Uhtred, but Uhtred was the only thing on his mind. He knew about the son he had taken from the church six months ago, but now he knew that Uhtred had a daughter as well. He had two children that he cared for, but obviously, Osbert was not included in that group. 

He supposed it hurt even more that Uhtred would willingly exchange himself for King Edward’s children. Yes, he realized, they were the King’s son’s, and one of them was probably the aetheling. But it _hurt_ that these children weren’t even his own. 

The horse was content to be in the stall now, and the fresh mash that the traveller had mixed up was being munched down gratefully. “So why did you leave if Winchester had been taken back?”

The traveller just shook his head. “I wasn’t even from Winchester. Just travelling to sell some of my produce.” He stroked his horse gently. “The coin was needed so that my family could buy grain. I do not even know if they are still alive.” He clenched his jaw angrily, and Osbert knew that no more questions would be welcomed.

Osbert invited him to the kitchen for a meal, introducing him to the Abbot sot hat he could tell the story to him. 

“What did he all say?” Father Aldwin asked, coming up beside Osbert. “I know you asked him many questions.”

“My father sacrificed himself for King Edward’s children,” he said bitterly. “But he doesn’t come to find me.”

Aldwin sighed. “I know it’s frustrating, Osbert,” he said. “And I don’t have all the answers that you deserve.” 

“I’m not asking you to know everything,” he exclaimed. “I would just like to know if he actually knows I exist. Because right now, it doesn’t feel like it.” Osbert clenched his hands together angrily. He knew that he shouldn’t be snapping at Father Aldwin, but it had been a long time coming. 

“And you deserve to know that,” Father Aldwin said after a moment. “But not right now.” Aldwin placed a hand on Osbert’s knee, and waited until he was looking at him before speaking again. “I have no doubt that you will find the answers. They will come.”

Osbert took a deep breath, but nodded. He tucked himself into Father Aldwin’s comforting arms, and let himself be held. Aldwin was right. 

The answers would come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so like... I said that this chapter should be up soon earlier today but was not expecting to write it.... I honestly have no idea what to expect for chapter 5. It could be up tomorrow or on the weekend so we'll see. I no longer have any answers. Life is a mystery.


	6. Fifteen Summers

“You need to make a decision, Osbert. And soon.’

Father Aldwin was beside Osbert. They had decided to take a walk out along the edge of the church walls. 

Osbert sighed. He was tired of Aldwin’s constant reminding. It came as soon as he woke up, when he was eating his meals, and before he went to bed at night.

He was coming up on his fifteenth summer. He had lived beside nuns and priests for his entire life, and it was either time to take his oath or make his own way in the world. 

“I’m not sure yet,” Osbert said once more. There was a part of him that enjoyed the familiarity of the church, the routine of getting up and praying and learning. But Osbert did not feel the call that the rest of the priests described. They were there because they believed that it was their destiny, but Osbert felt that his own path led elsewhere. But that thought was terrifying as well. He has never known anything else. Out there were battles, Danes and Saxons, and a King trying to unite them all under one God. It was madness, but something in Osbert begged for the knowledge of it all. 

“Osbert, I will be blunt with you.” Aldwin said. The both stopped and turned to face each other. “You must decide by the end of the week. The winter is coming and if you are leaving, it would be best if you left before the snow falls.”

Osbert inhaled sharply. That was _soon_. But shakily, Osbert nodded his head. “I understand.”

Aldwin patted him on the shoulders. “Whatever you choose, please know that I support you.”

Osbert smiled soflty. “So you won’t be upset if I choose to leave?”

Aldwin shrugged, but laughed. “I must admit, I am praying for you to stay.” His smile slid away and a more serious expression settled on his face. “But more importantly, I am praying for your happiness.”

They turned and continued walking. Whatever his decision would be, it would be a difficult one. That, he knew for sure. 

*****

Father Aldwin and the Abbot were standing at the head of the chapel, speaking in low voices. Osbert usually would wait for them to finish speaking before entering, but h knew he had to get it out now. He had spent the past few days thinking, and even praying, and last night he finally felt like the answers came to him. 

“Osbert.” Father Aldwin noticed him in the corner, and the Abbot spun around to glare at him. “What do you need?”

Osbert stepped into the chapel. He had spent many hours here, but never had he really appreciated how calm and serene the room was. The stone walls were chilly, but the windows let in warm sunlight that heated the stones well.

“I need your blessing,” Osbert said. “I will be leaving in the morning.”

The Abbot quirked an eyebrow, and Father Aldwin smiled wistfully. “Of course, Osbert.” He said, coming down to squeeze Osbert’s arms. “You will have it, always.”

The Abbot studied Osbert carefully. “You are sure this is what you want?” He said, curt and clipped as usual. Osbert nodded. “Then come forward and receive your blessing.”

Osbert knelt before the Abbot at the alter, and stayed still as the Abbot prayed and blessed him with holy water. Father Aldwin said a few words, and then Osbert stood. The Abbot was already disinterested in him, but Aldwin stayed behind. 

“I’m proud of you,” he said, and Osbert knew he was being honest. “You will be just fine.”

“I don’t know where to go,” Osbert admitted. “Where do I start?”

Aldwin hesitated for a moment. “Come with me,” he said, and then he turned and excited the chapel. 

Osbert followed him down to the sleeping quarters, confused. When they got there, Aldwin immediately went to the small chest beside his bed. In it was a bunch of papers and charters, and Aldwin dug around for a moment before pulling out a yellowed piece of parchment. 

He held it up. “This was sent with you from the convent,” he explained. “It has some things I think you should know.”

Osbert hesitantly took the letter from him, but opened it up and began to read. 

_”To the Abbot at Wiltunscir,_

_Osbert is a boy who has a great shadow looming over him. His father is Uhtred of Bebbanburg, the man who broke the shield-wall at Ethandun and is King Alfred’s oath-man._

_Osbert was brought to us by the Abbess Hild, who runs a nunnery in Winchester. She felt he would be in danger if he stayed in Winchester. Uhtred has many enemies and if they realized he had another child he could be in danger. She thought it was best for a rumour to be a rumour until a later date._

_Osbert is a wonderful boy, and hopefully this letter will make its way to his possession, so that he may find his own path._

_God’s Blessings,_

_Sister Wulfrun."_

Osbert looked up at Father Aldwin after he finished reading the letter. “You think I should go to Winchester?”

Aldwin nodded. “Find the Abbess Hild,” he suggested. “It seems like she knows more of your story.”

Osbert clutched the letter tighter in his hand. Yes, this Abbess seemed to be a good place to start. “What if she won’t tell me anything? Or if she actually doesn’t know?” Although he was comforted by having a plan, he could not help the worried thoughts that ran through his head. 

Father Aldwin just gently stood with him. “Then you will figure it out. It is not like people do not know of Uhtred of Bebbanburg,” he joked, and Osbert had to smile at that. “You will be just fine.” Aldwin finished. 

Osbert read the letter again. There was so much that he did not know, but on the other hand, there was so much that he could come to know. A flurry of excitement raced through him: He was going to find out about his past, and about his family. 

Aldwin picked up Osbert’s knapsack from underneath his bed. “Now,” he said. “Let’s get you ready to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So i know that I originally put 6 parts up for this story.... but I have found myself wanting to write more of Osbert and so I guess we'll keep on going! I am excited to see what else is in store for him! Thank you so much for reading!


	7. Fifteen Summers and Three Days

The world was so much bigger than Osbert expected.

He barely remembered the journey from the convent to the church when he was younger. He had paid more attention to the horse’s hair, tangling his fingers in it and enjoying feeding the animals their food. 

But now, he had no horse to help him along, and the roads from Wiltunscir to Winchester were surrounded by a lovely forest of trees. He wanted to enjoy it, but his feet were tired and sore and he was ready to be finished with walking. 

He had been going for a few days now, and he knew that he should be coming up on the city soon. But he honestly didn’t know what to expect. 

He imagined that it would be quite busy - it was the city that the King lived in. It was the capital of Wessex. But more importantly, it seemed like it was the city that had all of the answer. 

He stoped at the side of the road for a moment, taking a drink of water. It was getting colder, but the sun was still hot and his mouth and throat were parched. He tucked his water skein away and pulled out the letter again. He had read it numerous times, and the crisp edges of the parchment were getting worn and soft. 

Who was this Hild? How did his father know her? 

Uhtred was known for his paganism. Yes, he was also a Saxon, but he worshiped the pagan gods and wore a Hammer of Thor about his neck. 

It made him slightly nervous to meet him.

He got up and continued walking, nervous thoughts clouding his mind. Osbert still wasn’t sure what his role was in this world. He understood the Christian God, but struggled to find the answers to his questions. He could not help but feel like there was more to know before he could really feel like he knew himself. 

Turning the corner, he blinked in surprise as the tall walls of Winchester rose up. The walls loomed, higher than he could have even imagined. 

“What business do you have?” One of the guards at the top of the gate called down to Osbert as he approached. 

What was his business? “I’m looking for some answers.” He finally decided. It was truthful, after all.

The guard thought for a moment, and then shrugged before motioning for the gatekeeper to open the gates. 

He walked in slowly, still in awe. The market place was bustling, people trading wares and goats and chickens were wandering between the legs of the people. 

The palace rose above the houses, it’s large stone tower standing great. It seemed unbelievable that his own father walked those halls regularly, and was the great King Alfred’s oath-man. 

Shaking his head, he continued walking, trying to find where Abbess Hild might be. Father Aldwin’s last-minute advice rang through his head: Try the alehouse.

It was midday, but already bustling with drunks. Osbert dodged around them, trying to find the barkeep. He felt very out of place, with his plain robes and priestly hair. He was given many odd looks, especially from the women in the alehouse, but he kept his eyes down and managed to work his way to the bar.

“What’ll you have?” The barkeep asked as Osbert approached the bar. He was gruff, his hair tangled and his tunic barely fitting over his large belly. 

“Nothing, thank you,” Osbert replied, eyeing the pitcher of ale warily. “I just have a few questions?”

The barkeep grunted, but didn’t move away. Osbert assumed that this meant he could continue speaking. “Do you know of an Abbess Hild?”

The man frowned. “The Abbess? Of course. Her nunnery is just down the road.” He pointed to the left of the door. 

Osbert could hardly believe it. “Thank you so much,” he stammered, and hurried off of the stool and out of the tavern. 

She was so close! His heart was pounding in excitement. He stumbled down the street, and sure enough, there was the nunnery.

Novices were milling around the entrance, tending the goats and chickens. They looked curiously up at him, and one of them approached him cautiously. 

“Are you looking for someone?” She asked. She had big eyes and looked to be around his own age. 

“Is the Abbess Hild here?” He asked nervously. 

The novice blinked in surprise. “Give me one moment and let me see if I can find her.” She turned and went into the nunnery. 

Osbert’s stomach did a flip. The nerves came fast and out of nowhere, but he knew that he needed to find the answers. 

The novice came back out, and an older woman with long blond hair streaked with grey followed. He was surprised that she was not wearing a head covering, but if this woman knew his father, she must be a different kind of person. She had kind eyes that met his gaze, and instantly he could see the recognition in them. 

“Oh Osbert,” she said, smiling softly. “I was wondering if I would see you soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter, but I liked how it ended! Chapter 7 will be up soon, I promise!


	8. Fifteen Summers, Three Days, and Forty-Two Minutes

“You look just like your mother.”

Osbert blinked. “You know who I am?” He asked, surprised. All of the questions that had been racing through his head were gone. “You know my mother?”

Abbess Hild shooed the novices away before coming and wrapping her arms around him warmly. “Of course I know you. And your mother,” she said. “I helped deliver you.”

Osbert swallowed thickly. Too many emotions were coming too quickly, and he rubbed his cheek as a wayward tear fell down it. 

Hild chuckled as he swiped it away. “I am very glad you are here.”

Osbert laughed with her, sniffling heavily. “I am just in shock,” he admitted. The few moments that he had talked with Hild had already filled him with a motherly love that he had never felt anywhere else. The nuns when he was younger had loved him, of course, and the priests at the church were more like his brothers, but something about Hild was different. She knew him, deeply, almost like she knew him better than himself. 

“I assume you have a great many questions for me.” Hild ushered him into the nunnery and took him to a private room where a pitcher of water with some bread and cheese was sitting on a table. “And that you are hungry.”

He sat down. “Very.” And together they blessed the food before she ripped the bread and passed him pieces. 

“Where would you like me to start?” She pulled off a bit and started chewing. 

Osbert thought for a moment, trying to remember all of his questions. “At the beginning, I suppose,” he said. “Who was my mother?”

“Your mother,” Hild began. “Was a very special woman. She stole your father’s heart faster than I had ever seen.”

“You knew my father quite well, then?”

“He saved my life,” she said simply. “And I saved his. He is one of the most cherished people in my life.”

Uhtred was still an enigma in Osbert’s opinion. “So who was she? My mother?”

“Her name was Gisela.” Hild smiled wistfully. “She had your dark hair and her eyes were just like yours. You also look like your sister,” she added, grinning. “Gisela’s brother was King of Cumbraland. Your father was his oath-man for a time.”

“I thought my father was Alfred’s oath-man?”

Hild laughed. “Your father and King Alfred despised each other,” she said. “Especially at the beginning. But they also came to a mutual respect and is the reason why your father is still fighting for Saxon kings.”

Osbert sat quietly, absorbing the information. “I guess I just wanted to know that he loved my mother?” He didn’t mean to make it a question. 

Hild’s smile was small. She covered his hands with her own. “Very much,” she said. “He still does.”

“What happened to her?”

She swallowed. “She died,” she said quietly. “Giving birth to you.”

Somehow, Osbert expected this answer. “And he hates me for it?” He guessed. 

Hild sighed. “Your father can be a rash and impulsive man,” she explained. “Especially when angry and upset. I know he regrets his actions, but your father is one of those people who struggle to face their past.”

“Why?”

“Because his past has not been kind to him,” Hild said simply. “Too many times has it haunted him.”

“That seems like a pathetic reason,” Osbert said, suddenly angry. “He left me. His child.”  
“Your father is not a great father,” Hild said. “Only recently did he reconnect with his other children. Your siblings.”

“And he hasn’t with me because he hates me?”

“Honestly,” Hild said. “It is because he doesn’t know where you are.” She leaned forward. “Your father was in distress, and was grieving. I decided to take you away so that you would be safe from the people who wanted to kill your father.” Hild swallowed and played with her hands. “He still doesn’t know that it was I that took you. He thinks that you were taken by another family and lost, or died. And not telling him is something that I will forever regret.”

She did look like she regretted it, but Osbert found he could hold no anger over her. “Thank you for telling me,” he said. 

Hild smiled wistfully. “I am very glad that you found your way here. And I believe that your father will be thankful as well.”

“Is he here?” He asked, suddenly frightened. He didn’t think he could handle meeting his father now. Not after all of this.

“Good heavens, he hasn’t been to Winchester in a few years.” Hild laughed, and her smile lit up her face. “He is north, in Bebbanburg. He is Lord there.”

“Do I go there?”

“That is something that only you can answer.” She responded. “But I think you should.”

Osbert sat there, thinking about everything he had learned. In just the past few moments, he had learned more about his life than the past fifteen summers. He hadn’t known what to expect, but somehow, everything was exactly right. “I think I should as well,” he said after a moment.

Hild leaned over to a chest and pulled out a worn map of the island. “You’ll want to take this road,” she explained. “Go up and be sure to stop in Dunholm. Tell the Earl there that I sent you.”

Osbert looked at her in wonder and confusion. “How many Lord’s do you know?” He asked.

Hild laughed again. “Quite a few,” she admitted. “And they are good men. The Earl will host you as long as you need.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

She grinned, a little wickedly. “He respects me enough to not risk it.” And that was all she said. 

She gave him a bag of coins to take, as well as directions to a clean and quiet alehouse where he could stay. Hild gave him a hug. “You are a wonderful man, Osbert,” she said in his ear. “Your father will be proud.”

He squeezed her tightly, and then went to the alehouse. It was much nicer than the one he had been in before. Settling in for the night, he smiled to himself, feeling a little warmer and comforted by his meeting for Hild. He sighed, content, and closed his eyes to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll today. Let's see how long this keeps up because I honestly have no idea.


	9. Fifteen Summers and Seven Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahahahha third chapter in 1 day. Time is nothing and productivity has no meaning.
> 
> Please enjoy this extra long chapter to make up for the few shorter ones!

Dunholm was much farther away from Winchester than his church. His feet were incredibly tired, and some blisters were forming that rubbed and burned with every step. 

He had no idea how far away from Dunholm he was. All he knew was that he had been walking for many days and that he was sick of it. 

He saw a little trail of smoke rise up over the tree lines, and hope shot through him. He was close to something, at least. He followed it down the road, but stopped in horror at the carnage that met him. 

Bodies were strewn everywhere, and the smoke that Osbert had hoped was from a collection of cooking fires was from a burning house. It was quickly escalating, the roof catching and exploding into flames. 

People were shouting, and men were running around trying to draw water. They looked like they all belonged to the same household, matching colours on their tunics and cloaks. One man, who was obviously in charge, was sitting on his horse and shouting orders to his men. He had dark hair, dotted with silver beads, and the man beside him was obviously his son. 

A few of the soldiers were also finishing off a few of the bandits that had attacked the town. Osbert felt bile rise in him as he took in the dead man closest to him - he had an axe lodged in the back of his head. 

“You! Who are you?” One of the soldiers had taken notice of him and charged over, holding his sword up to Osbert’s neck. “Answer me!”

Osbert threw his hands up. “Please,” he whispered. “I am just trying to get to Dunholm. I wish to speak to the Earl there.”

The soldier squinted at him. “What business do you have in Dunholm?”

Osbert swallowed, the tip of the blade up against his throat. “Please,” he whispered again. 

“Lower the blade.”

Osbert looked up as the man on the horse stood over them. Up close, Osbert could see strands of grey shooting through his dark hair. He had a Danish look about him, if the beads and hammer of Thor around his neck was any indication. Old scars lined his face, a large faded one over his eyebrow. His eyes pierced him, and if Osbert looked closely, he could see that one was blue and the other was a light brown.

He gestured to Osbert. “You said you have business with the Earl of Dunholm,” he said. His voice was surprisingly quiet, and there was a slight accent to his words. “So speak.”

The soldier lowered the blade slightly, but still held it up warily. “My name is Osbert,” he began, his hands still up. “I was sent by the Abbess Hild in Winchester. She said to mention her.”

The Earl’s face lit up at the mention of the Abbess. “Hild, you say? It’s been too long since I’ve seen her.”

Osbert’s hands were still up, but the shift in mood was clear. He now longer felt like he was in any danger, but the sword next to him was still frightening. 

“You said your name was Osbert?” The Earl said suddenly. Osbert nodded. The Earl shared a look with his son next to him before looking back at Osbert. “I have a feeling you are looking for some answers.”

“Do you know who I am?” 

“I do indeed.” The Earl dismounted and came over to him. He was slightly shorter than Osbert, but his confidence made him seem taller. “Welcome to Dunholm, Osbert. My name is Earl Sihtric.”

*****

Dunholm was indeed a legendary fortress. It stood tall over a cliff, and the gates were thick as oak trees. 

Earl Sihtric’s hall was just as impressive. It was a confusing mix of Danish and Saxon themes; there was a great pig roasting over the fire, and a chapel was just off to the side. 

“Why don’t you fill your plate?” 

Osbert was sitting at the table with the Earl of Dunholm, eating the roasted pig. Earl Sihtric’s wife was sitting beside him, picking at her food. Their children were scattered around them. Earl Sihtric was gesturing toward’s Osbert. “There is lots of food to go around.”

Osbert tried to smile. “Thank you,” he muttered. “But I am not hungry.” It was hard to have an appetite when he felt so out of place. 

“You will need your strength,” Earl Sihtric’s wife said. She leaned forward to place more meat on his plate. “The winter comes fast.”

With a shock, Osbert saw a crucifix swing from her neck. “You are Christian?” He blurted out, and then flushed with embarrassment.

She smiled warmly at him, ignoring his heated face. “I am. And yes, my husband still believes in the old gods.”

Earl Sihtric shrugged. “And the new one.” He grinned, but shifted his attention to Osbert. “You are here for a reason,” he said. “Ask your questions.”

“Who are you to my father, Earl Sihtric?” He asked immediately. He still wasn’t sure who he was exactly. “How do you know Uhtred?”

Earl Sihtric scoffed. “Please, I am just called Sihtric. I served as Lord Uhtred’s oath-man for many years.” He thought for a moment. “I guess I still do.”

“You fought with him?”

“Many times. I was Uhtred’s third.”

Osbert sat for a moment. “I asked the Abbess this question as well,” he said. “But why?”

Sihtric took a bite of bread. “Why what?”

“Why would you give my father your oath?”

Sihtric set down his ale and looked intently at him. “Because your father is a good and honourable man,” he said. “And he could have killed me. He had every right to. But he stayed his hand and I haven’t looked back.”

“Then why are you not in Bebbanburg?” 

Sihtric gestured to the hall. “We retook Dunholm a few years back,” he said. “We killed the lord residing here. I grew up in this place and Uhtred wanted a man he trusted to rule it.”

Osbert picked at his plate. He couldn’t decide why he still felt at odds in this place. Sihtric clearly was a good friend of his father’s, and the way he spoke of him made it sound like they were brothers. Perhaps that was why: he had never had a friend that close to him and it hurt him to think about it. 

“I must take my leave,” Sihtric’s wife (Ealhswith, Osbert remembered) stood up and placed a kiss on her husband’s cheek. “Good night, all.” She left the main hall and headed up the stairs, their children following behind.

Soon enough, it was just him and Sihtric at the table. “Sihtric,” he asked after a moment. “Were you there when I was born?”

Sihtric visibly hesitated. “I was with Uhtred, yes,” he said carefully. “But we were not in Winchester.”

Osbert clenched his hand around his mug. “Can you tell me about it?”

Sihtric sighed, and then took a long drink. “King Alfred had sent Uhtred to investigate a group of Danes that were pillaging a church. We had to go to battle.” He drank his ale again. “We were not back in time for your birth.”

Understanding rippled through him. “He did not get to be with my mother,” he whispered. 

Sihtric clenched his jaw, and to Osbert’s surprise, a tear was running down his face. “I have never seen Uhtred in so much pain,” Sihtric whispered. “So much _anguish_.” He shook his head. “He believed it was a curse that took Gisela from him.”

Osbert blinked. “A curse?” He nearly scoffed.

Sihtric clutched his necklace. “It was something like no other,” he said quietly. “I have never seen curses like the one that witch threw.”

Osbert could see that Sihtric really believed that a curse killed his mother. The rational side of him was laughing at the disbelief, but another side of him was also questioning the miracles of the saints that he prayed to. Were they not the same thing?

Sihtric was still clearly upset over the turn that this conversation had taken. “Thank you for your hospitality,” Osbert said, and stood up to leave. “i will leave you to your thoughts.”

Sihtric stood up quickly. “Please, enjoy your rest, and stay for as long as you need.” He gestured to the side of the hall. “Ealhswith prepared you a room.”

Osbert nodded in thanks and began to make his way to the room. “Osbert?” Sihtric called. He turned to face the man. “He will be happy to see you,” he said, and somehow, Osbert believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gee... i really wonder why this is my favourite chapter? Could it be because I love Sihtric with all of my being? I guess we'll never know.


	10. Fifteen Summers and Eleven Days

Osbert stayed in Dunholm for a few days after arriving. Everyday he met with Sihtric, and learned more and more about his father. He learned that Sihtric had been a slave, that Uhtred had given him a chance to earn his freedom and make his reputation. 

But the urge to finally meet his father was strong. “I need to go tomorrow,” Osbert finally said at dinnertime one night. “It’s time I moved on.”

Sihtric took a bite but nodded. “I understand,” he said. He wiped his hands off, and reached inside of his tunic to pull out a folded pieced of paper. “This was sent by some of my men” he explained. “The Danes are trying to invade from the north again.”

“Does that mean that you are not letting me leave?” Asked Osbert, a little angrily. He would have appreciated being told sooner.

Sihtric shot him a warning glance. “I only just got it,” he said, slowly and carefully. Osbert swallowed heavily and looked away. “You may leave tomorrow, but I’m sending Sihtric with you.”

Young Sihtric was only a man of nineteen summers, but he was already commanding a portion of his father’s household guard. He perked up beside Osbert. “I’m to go to Bebbanburg?” He asked. 

His father nodded. “You will take a message to Uhtred and Finan that he can call upon us if need be.”

Young Sihtric grinned, and Osbert was struck again by how much he looked like his father. “I will, Da.”

Sihtric stood, preparing to clear his trencher. “You leave in the morning,” he said. “Be sure to rest well tonight.”

Osbert was left sitting alone at the table with Young Sihtric. He had spoken to the other a few times since coming here, but it was mainly questions about where things were or just to clarify some answers. 

Young Sihtric already had some arm rings, and Osbert had come to learn that they represented wealth and reputation. But the man beside him did not flaunt them - in fact, Young Sihtric mumbled a curse under his breath as he fumbled some bread and dropped it to the floor.

Osbert was uncertain as to what to think about him. 

Young Sihtric finally stood. “I will see you tomorrow morning,” he said. “We leave as soon as we are able.”

Osbert only nodded as Young Sihtric went off. It would be a curious journey to Bebbanburg. That, he was certain about.

*****

The day dawned cold and bright. 

Osbert was already shivering as he mounted the horse that Sihtric had gifted him. The mare was gentle, and looked almost bored even amidst the chaos that was the courtyard. 

Sihtric was also sending a few of his other men. In total, it there were six of them travelling to Bebbanburg. It was only a day ride, but with the impending threat of Danes he thought it best. 

Osbert was still trying to prepare himself to meet his father tonight. 

“Are you ready?” Young Sihtric asked. Osbert nodded, and the man clasped arms with his father, kissed his mother on the cheek, and mounted his horse to exit the courtyard. 

They had been riding for a little while before either of them spoke. “Are you excited?” Young Sihtric asked.

“I’m not sure,” Osbert admitted. “I don’t know what to think.”

Young Sihtric nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I can imagine meeting all of these people and learning things about yourself can be overwhelming.”

Osbert thought for a moment. “It was hard until I met the Abbess,” he began. “I wasn’t sure if I was bastard son of Uhtred, or if he even knew I existed.”

“How long have you known that Lord Uhtred was your father?”

Osbert thought back to that day, when another priest had come to warn the Abbott that a deacon had been stolen from the church. “I had only ten summers,” he said.

Young Sihtric frowned. “And you said your church was in Wiltunscir?” Osbert nodded. “We were still in Coccham then.”

Coccham was one of the closest burhs to Wiltunscir that King Alfred had made. “My father was Lord of Coccham?”

Young Sihtric nodded. “It’s where I was born and where I grew up. My siblings and your siblings too.”

Osbert had nearly forgotten about his brother and sister. “Can you tell me about them?”

Young Sihtric looked surprised. “A bit, I suppose,” he said. “Both Uhtred and Stiorra are a bit older than me, and Uhtred especially liked to push me around.” He paused for a moment and then laughed. “I learned to swim because Uhtred thought it would be funny to push me into the river.”

Osbert chuckled, but the approach that Young Sihtric was taking made him happy. Both Hild and Sihtric had spoken of his father in a way that was at the surface, that everyone could see. But with Young Sihtric, he explained many mischievous things that he and Stiorra would get into. It made his siblings seem real. 

“Where are they now?”

Young Sihtric thought for a moment. “I believe Uhtred is back at his church in Winchester. He is about to take his oaths. And Stiorra is in Eoferwic with Lord Sigtryggr.”

Osbert nearly stopped his horse. “As in the Dane that invaded Winchester?”

“The one and the same.” He snorted. “Lord Uhtred could hardly convince her to stay with him in Coccham. She’s like your mother that way.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?”

Young Sihtric grinned. “Apparently your mother had to hide in a convent and wait for your father to return so that they could marry.”

“ _What?_ ”

“According to my Da at least. When your father was away he had to carry messages from Gisela to the Abbess.” 

“You keep mentioning he was away,” Osbert asked after a moment. “Where did he go?”

Young Sihtric shut his mouth abruptly. “Da hasn’t mentioned much,” he said, and Osbert knew that he was being honest. “But I know it was a dark time for all of them.”

Osbert chose not to press it, but it tugged at his curiosity quite a lot. 

The day passed quickly, and Osbert found himself opening up more and more to Young Sihtric. He was quick to smile, and asked Osbert many questions about his life. With a pang, Osbert realized that Young Sihtric was his first proper friend. While he had been close with Father Aldwin, Osbert felt that he could connect with Young Sihtric on a much deeper level. 

They turned a corner, and the giant walls of a mighty fortress appeared. 

“Osbert.” Young Sihtric pulled his horse up and pointed. “Welcome to Bebbanburg.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello friends! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much for reading and I hope to get the next part up by for sure the weekend!


	11. Fifteen Summers, Twelve Days, and Fourteen Hours

Osbert was not prepared for this. 

He had hoped that the journey north to Bebbanburg would prepare him - he was not expecting to be here so soon. 

He supposed he should be thankful to Young Sihtric for distracting him. They had spoken all day and not once had Osbert thought about Bebbanbrug. 

They were approaching the gates, and men were lined along the ramparts. Up above the main gate, a man’s head stuck up. Osbert squinted, trying to see his face, but the sun as behind the man and they were too far away. 

“Oi!” The man called out. “Is that Young Sihtric?” The voice was very Irish. 

“Hello, Finan!” Young Sihtric called back. “Alright if we come in?”

“Did you bring any Danes with ya?”

Young Sihtric laughed. “Only if you count myself.”

Finan was obviously grinning. “I suppose we can open the gates.” He disappeared for a moment, and then the giant gates swung open. 

Osbert’s heart was pounding. 

Young Sihtric glanced over at him. “You’ll be alright,” he said, and spurred his horse forward. Osbert had no choice but to follow. 

He truly and honestly had no idea of what to expect. His stomach was twisting and turning with nerves, and he gulped as they passed under the gate and into the courtyard. 

It was huge. There was no way that his father was the lord here. This was a fortress meant for a king. 

“What brings you all the way up to this frozen wasteland?” The man who had been standing at the top of the gate had made his way down the stairs. He had brown bushy hair and a thick beard. “Surely your father can’t be that annoying.”

Young Sihtric dismounted and gave the man a great hug. “It’s good to see you,” he said, clapping him on the back. He turned and gestured back at Osbert. “I brought a friend,” he said careully. 

The man looked at him. Familiarity shot through his eyes. “Welcome to Bebbanburg.”

Osbert dismounted and Young Sihtric clapped him on the shoulders. “Finan,” he introduced the man. “This is Osbert.”

Finan took a deep breath. “I figured as much. Looks exactly like his mother.” He stuck out his arm. “Welcome home, Osbert.”

Osbert thought a moment, and then shook it. “Thank you.” He said. Finan seemed much different compared to Sihtric: Finan was loud and sarcastic, but Osbert could see a fierceness underneath. 

“What is this?”

Osbert looked up at the voice, and his heart stopped. 

There, standing on the steps, was Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg. 

He was tall, much taller than Osbert was expecting. Even from where Osbert was standing could he see the strength that his father had. His hair was streaked with grey, and braids studded with beads fell down he back of his neck. His eyes were narrowed and his mouth was tight. He passed his eyes over Finan, and Young Sihtric. And then his eyes landed on Osbert. 

Uhtred visibly froze.

Osbert could hardly blink. The air felt static and alive, like a storm was coming through and the thunder was going to crash and rumble. Uhtred took one step, and then another, and then too soon and not nearly soon enough was standing right in front of Osbert. 

He reached out his hand, and ever so gently, he brushed it along Osbert’s face. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, and wrapped Osbert in a fierce hug. 

Osbert was frozen for a moment. Slowly, but surely, he put his arms around his father and buried his face in his shoulder. 

He had hoped, and _prayed_ that this moment would be fulfilling. It was more than he could ever have thought. 

He sniffled as the tears fell down his cheek and soaked into his father’s tunic. Uhtred was cupping the back of his head in his hand and squeezing Osbert’s shoulders tightly. 

He had no idea how long they stood there, in the middle of the courtyard, but Osbert knew that it would never be long enough. 

Uhtred placed both hands on either side of Osbert’s face and leaned back a bit. “I can’t believe this,” he said, laughing and smiling joyously. There were tears running down his own face. Osbert tried to smile, but he hiccuped from the tears and Uhtred tried to wipe them off of his cheeks with his thumbs. “I did not dare to hope,” he whispered, brushing Osbert’s hair out of his eyes. “I did not dare.” He brought his mouth to Osbert’s forehead and kissed it softly, wrapping his arms around him again. 

Osbert didn’t want it to end. 

*****

Earl Sihtric’s hall was grand, but it was nothing compared to Bebbanburg.

It was vast and grand and somehow, Osbert was sitting in the main hall with his father eating the most succulent roast pig ever. 

Uhtred was sitting at the head of the table, Osbert on his left, Finan and Young Sihtric on his right. The hall was empty, save for a few servants milling about pouring ale and serving stew. 

“You have been treated alright?” Uhtred asked, and not for the first time. 

“Yes, Lord,” Osbert said again. “I’m just fine.”

Uhtred sat in silence again, pushing around at the food on his trencher.

Finan rolled his eyes. “Oh, good Jesus,” he said, and unraveled his legs from the chair. He had been sitting curled up and picking at his pig with one hand. “Osbert, why don’t you tell us your story, and start at the beginning because your turd of a father doesn’t know what questions to ask.”

Young Sihtric snorted, and Uhtred shot both him and Finan a sharp glance. Finan just grinned cheekily, and Young Sihtric coughed awkwardly. 

“I suppose that would be a good place to start,” Uhtred said after a moment. He turned to Osbert. “What is your story?”

Osbert knew that this question was coming. He had gone over it twice already, with Hild and then again with Sihtric the Elder. But saying it to his father was different. “I was brought to a convent when I was a babe. When I was five I was sent to a church and stayed there until just a few days ago.”

Osbert continued, describing the church, how much he despised the Abbot (upon which Uhtred smirked proudly), and Father Aldwin. “He helped me make the decision,” he explained. “I was about to take my oaths, but I wasn’t sure about it.”

“Your oaths?” Finan said with a smile. “Two out of three, Uhtred. Not too bad.”

It was Uhtred’s turn to roll his eyes. “That’s enough out of you, Finan.” He muttered. 

Finan’s grin grew even more, but he didn’t comment. 

It was quiet in the hall again, and the tension was rising again. There were still questions that had not been answered, and everyone around the table knew it. 

“Sihtric, let’s go for a walk.” Finan finally said after a while. “I need to hear some stories about Ealhswith yelling at your father. It’s been much too long since I’ve witnessed that.”

They both stood up and exited the hall, leaving Osbert and his father in an uncomfortable silence. 

“Do you hate me?” Osbert whispered suddenly. He swallowed hard, not understanding where the questions came from. He supposed it must have been a fear of his, deep down, even though their reunion had been joyful.

It took Uhtred a while to answer. “I thought I did.” He said, so softly Osbert had to lean in to hear him. “But I was angry, and that made me blind.” He placed his hand over Osbert’s. “I am glad that you are here now. Truly.” 

Warmth filled him. “I had always thought that you despised me,” he admitted. “We would hear stories of you. Of your children.”

Uhtred frowned. “What kind of things would you hear?”

Osbert shrugged. “When your other son was taken from his church, I was warned that you might come for me.”

Uhtred blinked in surprise. “And do what?” He said, almost angrily. 

He shrugged again. “It was the church,” he explained. “They hated that a pagan had taken a deacon.”

Uhtred nearly upset the trencher on the table in frustration. “I should not be surprised by that,” he said, grumbling. “The church is always looking to ensure my soul goes to Hell.”

Osbert snorted, causing Uhtred to look back at him. After a moment, Uhtred began to grin and just shook his head in exasperation. 

They chuckled together for a little bit, but it died down soon enough. Although before had been awkward and tense, Osbert did not feel out of place now. 

“How did you get to the church?” Uhtred asked finally, and a little hesitantly. 

Osbert shrugged. “I only found out for myself a few days ago,” he said. “It was the Abbess Hild.”

Uhtred inhaled sharply. “ _Hild_ brought you to the church?” He frowned, clearly in distress. “Why didn’t she tell me?” 

Osbert thought back to his conversation with the Abbess. “She wanted to keep me safe. Especially from your enemies.” He cleared his throat. “She also mentioned that you were grieving.”

Sadness filled Uhtred’s eyes. He looked down at his hands. “Yes, I was grieving. Incredibly. I was not thinking clearly.” He shook his head sadly. “Your mother was so ready to meet you. _I_ was so ready to meet you.” 

A tear fell down his cheek and he took a deep breath. “I had this idea of you,” he started. “Of how we would welcome you into our family. And when that didn’t come to pass I couldn’t imagine anything else. Especially without Gisela.” Another tear dropped. “And for that I am sorry.”

Osbert covered his father’s hands with his own. “I know,” he said. “And I forgive you.”

Uhtred sniffed. “Do you hate me?”

He thought for a moment, and then smiled. “I thought I did.”

Uhtred smiled, and another tear dripped slowly down his cheek. But Osbert knew that it was not from sadness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment! Thank you all so much for reading this far. I appreciate it so incredibly much!


	12. Sixteen Summers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for taking so long to update. 
> 
> I was finishing work up for the summer, along with some drama that came with it, and then trying to prepare for my university classes to start up again kind of made me want to not write. 
> 
> But I'm here now! 
> 
> Constructive comments are always welcome! Just don't be rude, because nobody wants that.

Osbert glanced over at his father. Uhtred was wincing and shifting uncomfortably in his saddle. “Are you alright?” He asked.

Uhtred just scowled, and Finan answered for him. “He’s getting too old to ride for this long.” He said jokingly. Uhtred’s scowl only deepened. 

Osbert smiled. They were riding to Dunholm to meet Earl Sihtric after a messenger from Edward came to Bebbanburg. The Danes were invading again, and Edward was becoming desperate. Reluctantly, Uhtred had agreed to help. 

Uhtred had sent riders out to Eoferwic and Dunholm, explaining the situation and calling them to arms. Uhtred had many men, but to ensure their success they would need the men of Dunholm and Eoferwic as well. With the soldiers of Wessex and Mercia, they had a strong chance. 

“If he’s getting too old, then surely you are too.” Finan’s wife, Eadith, smirked wickedly. Finan made an offended face, but it quickly morphed into a look of pure adoration. Osbert chuckled. Finan was a mad-man, but Eadith kept him in check.

They had been riding for quite some time, and if Osbert’s memory served him correctly, they were bound to arrive at Dunholm very soon. It had been a year since he had been there, and he smiled as he recalled Young Sihtric eagerly making conversation with him. 

It had been so long ago. So much had happened since then. 

He had been reunited with his father, accepted by him. He had found the answers to all of the questions that he had. 

He had learned so much in Bebbanburg. About his father, his mother, _himself_. He had learned how to fight, how to move in a shield wall, how to protect himself and the men around him from harm. Uhtred and Finan had been incredibly patient in teaching him. How to old a sword, which weapon to use in the shield wall 

And as he knew it was bound to come, he had killed a man. 

A group of bandits had attacked the town outside of Bebbanburg. Osbert remembered how Finan had scoffed at their foolishness, how they had sauntered in and killed everyone. But then, one had snuck up behind his father and before he knew it, Osbert had plunged his blade through his back and out of his chest. 

He earned an arm ring from that. It sat on his arm, and he was still unsure about how he felt about it. 

His father told him of the honour it was to earn an arm ring. His father’s arms were littered with them; he oozed of wealth and power wherever he went. He recalled Earl Sihtric’s rings, and it made him wonder how many people they had killed together. It clearly was a lot. 

The walls of Dunholm rose up before them, and Osbert was pleased at the familiarity it brought. He had spent quite a bit of time there, after all. He chuckled at Uhtred’s subtle sigh of relief. 

The gates were opened, and Finan positively vaulted off of his horse to grasp Sihtric in a tight hug. They were laughing boisterously, and once Uhtred dismounted, opened it up for him to join. 

Sihtric finally broke the hug first. He jerked his head over his shoulder. “Look who wandered in a few days ago.”

Osbert saw Finan peer over Sihtric’s shoulder and break into another large grin. “Baby monk!” He cried, and then another man came up to greet Finan and Uhtred. 

This must be Osferth, Osbert thought. He was smaller than the rest of his father’s men, but they clearly appreciated him. Finan had told Osbert many stories of their time together, and whenever Osferth’s name came up their stories became much more endearing. 

“Osbert!” 

Osbert glanced to the side, and grinned when he saw Young Sihtric come up to him. He had grown even more, was now taller than his father, and had added many beads into his hair. He dismounted and pulled him into a hug. “How are you?” He asked, pulling away.

Young Sihtric was grinning. “Very well,” he said. He glanced back at a lovely young woman standing beside Ealhswith. “ _Very_ well.”

“Your wife?”

He nodded eagerly and smiled widely, clearly in love with her and bursting with happiness. “Since just a few weeks ago.” But he suddenly caught sight of Osbert’s arm rings. “You are a warrior now!” 

Osbert smiled, but even he knew it was halfhearted. “Oh,” Young Sihtric said. “I see.”

“I’m working on it.” He said, and Young Sihtric chuckled warmly.

Osbert looked up as the doors to Earl Sihtric’s hall opened and some people walked out. A tall, lean man with a furious scar across his eye, and a Danish woman with a small child tucked into her skirts.

Uhtred let out a cry and the girl came bounding down the steps, leaving the man Osbert assumed was her husband and her child. Uhtred hugged her warmly, brushing her hair back from her face tenderly. With a pang, Osbert realized that his must be Stiorra. His sister. 

Uhtred was speaking quietly to her, and he saw them both turn and look in his direction. Stiorra’s eyes widened as she took him in, and almost in a trance, she came over to him. 

“Hello,” she said, nervously. 

Osbert realized that his own gut was flipping up and down. “Hello.”

She grabbed him in a hug and tucked her face into his shoulder. “I can’t believe I am meeting you,” she said thickly, and Osbert knew that she must be crying.

He returned her tight grip. He had thought that meeting his father would overwhelm him with emotion, but this was something else entirely. Having a sibling was something he could only imagine for such a long time. He knew he had a mother and father, but what about other children? Did he have a proper family?

She pulled back and wiped the tears from her face. “You look just like mother,” she said, smiling and sniffling.

Osbert laughed. “I’ve been told,” he said, and then the laughed again for no reason. He was giddy, and she obviously was too. 

He was with his family now. All that was missing was his older brother, but a few times over the last few months had they sent each other letters. But here was his sister and his father, and his sisters family. 

It was more than he could ever have thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while I have chosen to complete the story now, I might pick it up at a later date when I have more planning and ideas running through my head. 
> 
> I want to thank you so much for reading this! It truly means the world. 
> 
> And a giant thank you to the Enablers for everything. I love you all. 
> 
> And of course, to Java - bless.


End file.
